Chapter 342: 264, Nightfall, Gunfire
The cause of this crisis was that the ‘Daytime’ boss, within He Xiaoxiao’s group chat, twice used “a little duck” and “Liu Dezhu” to act out scenarios, drawing huge hatred for the Devil’s Stamp holder Huan Yu.
Ultimately, this led to the exposure of Huan Yu’s ID and an increase in everyone’s guard against Huan Yu.
Although the outside world still didn’t know the name ‘Daytime’, it was already confirmed to be an organization.
Qing Chen thought repeatedly, if he were Huan Yu, what would he do?
Of course, he would kidnap a member of Daytime and then interrogate them to get information about the ‘Daytime’ boss.
For Huan Yu, directly striking a major blow to Daytime did not fit with his game rules and code of conduct. Finding this ‘Daytime’ boss and making the boss his slave was the most urgent matter.
Qing Chen calmly climbed over the school fence.
As expected, just two minutes after he left the school, he had already spotted the middle-aged man’s trace in his field of vision.
Counting this time, the man had inexplicably appeared four times.
In the afterglow of the setting sun, Qing Chen walked ahead in his school uniform, while the middle-aged man followed silently behind him, always maintaining a distance of over a hundred meters.
The middle-aged man wore a Bluetooth headset on his right ear, tracking Qing Chen while reporting his movements.
When Qing Chen entered his home at Xingshu Road No. 4, the middle-aged man whispered from outside, “The target has returned home, his place is on the first floor, both the front and back windows have security grilles, and he can only leave through the front door. The neighborhood is quite quiet, if someone tries to dismantle the security grilles, I’m sure to hear the noise.”
“Stand by nearby,” came a voice from the Bluetooth headset.
“Understood,” said the middle-aged man.
At this moment, Qing Chen leisurely changed into an outfit he had bought but never worn before.
When the last trace of sunlight in the distant west vanished from the sky, he gently opened the front door, and as his right foot stepped out, his face had already taken on a different appearance.
Qing Chen walked out, passing by the middle-aged man without him noticing or being on his guard.
The middle-aged man’s attention was entirely focused on the narrow exit of the corridor.
In the instant when their shadows crossed and the light faded from twilight to dusk, Qing Chen suddenly reached out, his right hand deftly removing the Bluetooth headset from the other’s ear, his thumb covering the headset’s microphone.
His left hand struck like thunder, hitting the middle-aged man’s carotid artery on the neck.
The middle-aged man’s body slowly collapsed, and as soon as he began to tilt, Qing Chen gently caught him and helped him back into the house.
Qing Chen closed the door slowly, alert to his surroundings.
No one noticed what had happened here; even if there were passersby, they wouldn’t have seen anything amiss because Qing Chen moved too quickly.
Qing Chen stood quietly in the dark, glancing at the Bluetooth headset which was now in call-ending mode.
He now needed to know this middle-aged man’s name.
Then, Yi’s voice came from his phone, “You didn’t kill him, are you planning to use the Puppeteer on him?”
“Yeah,” responded Qing Chen.
“But trying to get his name out so quickly might not be easy,” Yi said.
“It might not require interrogation,” Qing Chen said as he searched the middle-aged man’s body and found an ID card…
Just like the Inner World’s identity ID, without an ID card one would hardly get anywhere in the Outer World – unable to take long-distance buses, unable to stay in hotels. Qing Chen suspected that this middle-aged man was not a Los Angeles native, and also not a professional assassin.
The man didn’t carry firearms, only knives, which made Qing Chen think that he was just an ordinary Time Traveler controlled by Huan Yu.
So, the probability was high that the man’s ID card would be on him.
Of course, if the ID wasn’t found, they would have to resort to interrogation.
The prerequisite for using the Puppeteer was knowing the person’s name. Qing Chen muttered, while searching the middle-aged man’s other pockets, “Yi, is there any Taboo that can directly reveal someone’s name?”
“No, you’re overthinking it,” Yi replied.
Qing Chen examined the man’s ID card: Chen Siheng, 37 years old, household registered at Rongcheng Community, Wen Yi South Road, Xian City.
He indeed came from out of town.
Qing Chen silently speculated that Huan Yu might not be a resident of Los Angeles, and his influence in Los Angeles wasn’t strong, which was why he had to call people from other places.
It was unclear how many people were still out there.
He shook his wrist lightly and saw the Puppeteer’s transparent strings shoot out, tightly wrapping around Chen Siheng’s left wrist.
In the darkness, the middle-aged man slowly stood up, his eyes devoid of focus.
Qing Chen put the headset back on the man and then controlled the middle-aged man to leave the house and stand at the very spot he used to monitor Qing Chen from.
After 30 minutes, a voice came through the headset, “Chen Siheng, report your status.”
The middle-aged man said, “Nothing unusual, the target is still at home.”
“Continue to wait.”
Qing Chen discerned the voice on the phone through the Puppeteer.
Yes, it was a voice he had heard before on Laojun Mountain.
A young man with a effeminate voice, lacking in abdominal strength, sounding somewhat weak.
Huan Yu made an appearance.